


I'm Okay.

by compilemyvile



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: I like it being vague idk, M/M, but this was a school paper I wrote, jeanmarco marriage yay, this is an internal piece okay, thought I should share it here???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compilemyvile/pseuds/compilemyvile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean may not be the most well behaved man but he still deserved emotional stability.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a school project where we had to show our understanding of ID, Ego, and Superego characters c: immediately I knew I wanted to do a JeanMarco piece with past boyfriends discussed. It's a simple drabble but I kind of adore it? c':  
> I keep getting deterred form my multi-fic with one-shots LOL  
> my [tumblr](http://kirschtingyou.tumblr.com) ^^

Dark coffee has always been my favorite. The edges were almost a translucent brown during their lappings against the mug. But the further you peered, the darker it got, like it was remembering it’s true shade. I didn’t like remembering, but I needed to.

Representing an age of thirty three, I can proudly say I’ve cared for three men in my life and I don’t regret a single one.. Regret is a word I use when I spill coffee on a pristine white blazer or slice open my thumb when chopping celery for a salad; it’s not used to describe my past loves. When I was younger I held apprehension for thinking of the others, but I’ve matured and I’m ready, for everything. 

Powder blue suits always reminded me of Eren and as my own glowered back at me in the muddled reflection of a barely cleaned mirror it was only natural that he should come first. Eren was a masterpiece, seeing him had my hands twitching for a paint brush. Eyes sharply carved emeralds and skin that the sun ravished with kisses held me in a dream like state for longer than my pride will allow me to admit. His laugh caught me around my neck but it was his sharp tongue that drew my feet off the ground until they dangled. 

Eren Jaeger was the death of my carefree spirit. Lashing out was an understatement when it came to his shouting _or_ his quick comments, they both made me seethe equally. First loves could make or break a man and mine certainly had me caught somewhere near the former. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was driven by his aggression and acted on it accordingly. I remember him accompanying me to the grocery store, a poor little kid was weaving through the aisles with a giggling blonde fresh on his heels. Eren whipped around, green eyes pelting the children with a dozen sour apples. His voice rose and kept rising until I was flushing with embarrassment and my shoulders dropped in shame. 

He wasn’t what I needed even though I dearly loved him. My father shouted a lot, mostly at my mother. Leaving my wobbly chinned birth giver to handle it, I cowered in the corner. We weren’t close, and grew less so over the years. Especially after I started shouting back with endless black eyes that gazed straight to his core, I had my old man quivering along with his wife. Since then shouting has been my own trigger that had my lips opening of their own accord.

The hardest part was not being able to take back things already said. Many times Eren would leave with a blank face and empty pockets and wouldn’t return until well past midnight, looking well taken care of. He never told me where he went, but I knew without a doubt he had something on the side, though I didn’t find out for sure until after our final fight. This was the only thing I’m still unable to forgive him for.

Eren’s boot clad feet fell heavy against the tiled kitchen. “Baby~” he sing-songed, his pitching rising on the second syllable. I immediately knew he was intoxicated, being the lightweight he is he probably only had a few drinks. I knew nothing good would come of this.

And nothing good did. Sleepily stumbling down the steps, I was greeted by a sly smirk and an open palm. I can’t remember his exact words, but I do remember their intent to wound. They burrowed in my bare arms and drew more blood than I’m proud to admit. He touched on every one of my weak spots, from my physical insecurities to my lack of parental love. Eren usually had limitations, it was as if he knew where to build walls he couldn’t climb even if his unending anger spurred him up the slanted sides. But they were nothing more than dust for Eren to laugh at. _”You’re a mess.” he’d said. “Yes, I am.” I’d agreed._

I’d told him I hated him but he just shrugged and said someone else loved him so it didn’t matter, my feelings didn’t matter. Eren Jaeger was my first love but he wasn’t the first man to reduce me to pathetic, breath stealing sobs, that title belonged to my father.

I wasn’t okay. 

Armin received the shortest straw, the poor thing. With Eren at least I’d been affectionate, but with Armin I could barely even meet his eyes, I was still the frayed blanket Eren left me as and none of the ends could be weaved back together.

He was short with cheeks so full they rivaled those of a cherub’s, golden hair easily waved down his shoulders, held in an eternal elastic cage. It was dry from constant bleaching but my fingers slid through it so easily I couldn’t help but touch that one piece of him. He deserved that at least.

The need to yell at everything had rubbed off on me from that ridiculously riled up, green eyed boy and I’d stand there shouting during the most mundane situations. Armin would always just take it and when I’d ask him later why, he’d say _”You held a lot of aggression inside, I thought I could help you get it out.”_ It hadn’t helped me, it just made me pull further away from a relationship I shouldn’t of been in in the first place. If I wasn’t okay with myself how could I be okay with somebody else?

We mutually ended things. There was no big blow out, just him wishing me happiness and my heart aching for not wanting such a sweet little thing. But getting away with things I shouldn’t of wasn’t what I needed, as I’d soon learn.

I’d never been captivated by brown eyes, I’d found them dark and dreary, but, boy, was I wrong. Met with a rich, mocha gaze my hazel eyes were weak against the cheery smile offered in return. I knew I was screwed immediately. 

It took me three tries to force the words out but once they left my lips I didn’t regret them. He agreed to go out with me.

In the warmth of the coffee shop I learned so much about this man. He had a sister and loved anything peppermint, feared loneliness but never forced a relationship, which I one hundred percent respected since I was known to do the opposite. His name was Marco, but I preferred to call him _doe eyes_ which made him flush without fail. As we grew closed he made me strive to be a better man, for him. 

I’d called him once, in one of my fits of rage, the details elude me but I do remember his distinct words and clipped tone. _”Call me when you’re done being such a jerk.”_ Being used to either being screamed at in return or being told nothing was wrong with me had not prepared me for a neutral tone that held such calm, honest words. _”I love you.” I’d said. “I’m not okay, but I love you.”_

Marco never hesitated to put me in my place. Every Time I’d inch past the pre-determined line, he’d be right there, shoving me back. Not to say it didn’t anger me, because it did, outrageously so. But when my voice raised to screeching levels Marco’d give me this look that had my lips gluing themselves together. I needed that, I _need_ that.

Dozens of things could of happened between Marco and I. We could have phased out or simply ended things. The one thing I did not expect was to be marrying him. When he’d sunk down on one knee, _he’d asked, “Are you okay?”_ he didn’t jump right into it, he knew I was working through things. I didn’t answer the question but I did take the offered ring in a wordless promise that I was doing my best to be.

I was alone in my dressing room, just as I’d always been. But Marco and his family were both taking me in with open arms and that was the final thought that drove my nerves away. Without waiting for another hesitation I was floating on romantic thoughts until my feet were lowered on the altar, grounding me just like Marco always did. 

_I love you._

_“Don’t look so sad when you say it.”_

_I love you._

_“You deserve me, Jean.”_

_I love you. I love you._

_“You’re mine and I’m never letting you go.”_

_God, I love you, Marco._

_“I love you and I always will.”_

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

Gazing out from a lilac intertwined arch, I was met with a warm gaze and a shy smile, It wasn’t the coming ceremony that had me realizing it, but the way he softly flushed when he held my gaze, his matching powder blue suit shimmering in the dim lighting. Yeah, I was okay.  


_I love you._


End file.
